


Desire Lines

by Lila82



Category: Animal Kingdom (TV)
Genre: Fix-It of Sorts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-07 12:46:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11623833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lila82/pseuds/Lila82
Summary: Deran makes amends.





	Desire Lines

_When you were young,  
You never knew which way you’d go  
What it was grace now undertows_

  
  


The night he opens The Drop, Deran dreams of Belize.

He dreams of the waves, deep and blue like Adrian’s eyes, slipping away the harder he tries to hold on. He’s in the water to his knees, his chin, over his head until there’s nothing left but the pale glow of the moon and someone calling his name from the deep.

He wakes up gasping for air, sweat-damp hair sticking to his skin. 

He wakes up wanting something he isn’t sure was really there.

 

* * *

 

It’s a few weeks before Deran sees Adrian again, at the Costco in Carlsbad of all places, while he’s pushing a cart filled with industrial strength soap and single-ply toilet paper. 

It’s a Sunday afternoon and the place is full of young families and couples. One in particular catches his eye, two men about his age comparing the prices of china sets like their lives depend on it. His stomach twists, just from watching them.

_You and Dave gonna fag it up at Pottery Barn, get matching dishes and shit?_

He waits for the shame to kick in, but it doesn’t come, not with the ache that suddenly settles in his chest. What those guys are doing, debating white vs white-on-white, it doesn’t seem so bad. The way they smile at each other – Deran’s never realized how much he wants that for himself.

“You lost?”

Deran recognizes the voice, but still spends a second deciding if it’s real. He lives by the ocean. There are plenty of surfers in gray hoodies wandering the streets. 

He turns his head anyway and it’s exactly what he thought. _Adrian_. It was dark at the bar, but the light is bright in here and he can see clearly. Same freckles, same blue eyes, same mouth that made Deran wonder at seventeen, what it would be like to kiss his best friend.

“Hey Adrian,” he manages to say, proud of how level his voice sounds. 

“You’re the last person I thought I'd see here.”

Deran laughs, a little forced, but still a laugh, and gestures at the cart. "It's my day off, but there's always something that needs doing."

"Welcome to the life." Adrian studies the contents of the cart. "The prices are decent here, but you can get better deals at Empire Cleaning. Set up an account and they'll take care of whatever you need."

Deran forgets sometimes that Adrian has his own business, that the surf shop is more than a place that pays Smurf rent. The thing he feels when he walks into his bar, the sense of accomplishment for having this one thing that's his, he wonders if Adrian feels it too. Maybe it's why Adrian always seemed happier, more comfortable in his skin, because he had something that no one else could take. 

"Thanks, man. Appreciate the advice."

Adrian shrugs. "Just one small business owner helping out another, right?"

It would be so easy to call Adrian out, to remind him that _small business owners_ doesn't begin to describe what they are to each other, but Deran doesn’t mention it. Whatever they were before, there's no need to bring it up, to remind Adrian of the ugly way it ended. 

He keeps things easy – simple – continues down the friendly path Adrian opened for him. "I went to one of those meetings a few weeks back. Mark Liston is a dick."

Adrian laughs, sounding lighter than Deran's heard in years. "I'm guessing you didn't pay him."

"Greedy fucker. I can clean puke off my own sidewalk." 

Adrian's expression hardens. "You never were very good at cleaning up your own messes."

Dave hangs between them like a ghost, but Deran's not going to apologize for that, not going to say he's sorry for fighting for what he wanted. He does regret the turn of the conversation, the way Adrian's arms are crossing over his chest and his eyes are narrowing. The loose, easy boy he knew is gone, slowly being replaced with the brittle thing he turned him into.

"Yeah, well, I’m trying to doing this right." He's wearing his Deran mask – hands in pockets, shoulders hunched – and he forces himself to stand up straighter, hold his hands at his sides.

Adrian doesn't say anything and time stretches, veers into awkwardness. Deran doesn't want to ruin the moment, but he doesn't want it to end either. He especially doesn’t want to watch Adrian walk away with things unsettled between them. He grasps at the opportunity before it slips away. 

"I still owe you a drink. You should stop by sometime and cash in." Deran forces his head to stay level, to keep his gaze focused on Adrian's face. He wants Adrian to look at him when he says no.

"I'd be down for that." 

Adrian agreeing was unexpected, and Deran finds himself stumbling over his words. "Yeah. Sure. I open at 4:00, so come by any time." 

"Alright." 

There's no handshake or hug before Adrian takes off, but Deran thinks it’s okay. Adrian might be walking away but he's not walking out of his life.

 

* * *

 

Adrian doesn’t show up the next day, or the day after that, and something dies inside Deran.

It’s familiar, the icy numbness that settles in his chest, the voice in his head reminding him that he’s a Cody, that he doesn’t deserve nice things, that he especially doesn’t deserve _this_. But his brain has rarely done what he’s wanted it to do, and he can’t keep his eyes from the door every time someone walks into The Drop, just like he can’t keep from looking at his phone every time a text lights up the screen. 

He knows by now, the best ways to punish himself.

Which is why he’s blinking again when he pulls up in front of The Drop and finds Adrian waiting for him.

Adrian straightens, all those lean muscles flexing in the late afternoon light, and it’s enough. Even if this is all he gets, Deran thinks it will be enough. Adrian in the sunlight – it’s something he could hold onto forever.

“I thought you opened at four?”

“My bartender’s out and my beer distributor blew a flat.” Deran drags open the back of the jeep to get the keg. “I had to pick up today’s delivery.”

Adrian comes to help him and they’re suddenly side-by-side, so close that his bare arm brushes against Deran’s t-shirt. He tightens his grip on the keg to keep from doing something stupid. 

“I didn’t know I’d be working for that drink.” Adrian’s arms flex, an added bonus, as he heaves the keg onto a handcart.

Deran pretends to fumble with his keys to hide the look on his face. He’s out of practice and he knows what’s there, the heat and the longing, and he doesn’t want Adrian to see. Not yet. Not until he’s sure it won’t send Adrian running.

He manages to get the key in the lock and tugs open the door. “I’ve heard it’s bad business to turn down free labor.”

Adrian laughs and follows Deran inside, standing close but with a respectable distance between them. Deran focuses on punching in the code for the alarm rather than think about it.

It takes a few minutes to get the keg settled and then he’s resting his arms on the scratched bar, leaning in to take Adrian’s order. He doesn’t like the look on Adrian’s face. He’s seen it before, clear as day by Smurf’s pool, and that thing inside him dies a little more. He remembers how that day ended, remembers how every day ended before he shook Smurf loose. He can't go back there.

“What’s up?” he asks, careful to keep his voice level – friendly. If this is all he gets, it would be enough. He can live with friends if it means Adrian’s in his life.

Adrian turns his gaze to the security panel on the wall. “It’s weird, is all, seeing you use that thing for good.” 

Deran bites his lip to keep from lashing out. There’s more to him than the jobs he pulls and the weight of his family name, even if it’s hard to see. But then, Adrian’s only seen that side of him once, hidden away thousands of miles from home in sand and sun and sweaty skin sliding – he bites down harder to hold the memory back. Belize was a dream and he can’t make it real.

“I’m trying,” he says, and it's the absolute truth. 

Adrian takes his turn blinking as realization breaks across his face. Hope, a bright burning hope, that’s there for a second then gone as his face closes up again. It’s another punch to Deran’s gut, knowing he put that look there.

“How about that beer?” Adrian asks.

Deran nods, grateful for the distraction. “Sure, what do you want?” He gestures at the tap.

Adrian watches him carefully, rolls a paper napkin between his fingers. “Whatever you’re having.”

Deran thinks there’s a lesson there, but he can’t figure out the meaning, and he doesn’t want to push and remind Adrian why he left him behind in the first place. He pours two Breakwaters and slides Adrian’s beer across the bar.

A toast is stupid but he wants to commemorate this moment, so he tips his beer in Adrian’s direction. He times the moment well and Adrian looks up at the same time. He looks happy, like he wants to be there, like he wants to be with _him_.

Deran smiles, takes a gulp of his beer to hide it. That feeling in his chest twists into something new. It feels a lot like hope.

 

* * *

 

Deran’s days are busy. He has Smurf to avoid, and making sure Craig isn’t dead, and the seemingly unending things that are involved in running a business.

Two of his barstools are uneven and he needs to fix them before someone falls over and breaks their neck.

“If they die, it’s on you,” Pope had said the other night, aimlessly stirring his vodka soda while Baz downed three shots in as many minutes. “There was a guy two cells over. He killed the dude that broke into his house and he still ended up behind bars.”

“Shit, really?”

Pope had nodded in that wise, weird way of his and Deran had taken the advice to heart. 

The bell over the door rings but Deran doesn’t look up, so close to getting the stupid chair fixed. He’s on his knees, about to stand up, when a shadow falls over him. He pushes his hair back from his face and looks up into Adrian’s eyes.

“The work never ends, huh?”

Adrian stares down at him and Deran swears he sees something in his eyes, something hot and wanting, but it might be the light. It could also be him on his knees, Adrian standing over him all warm and salt-kissed and lit up by the afternoon sun. He swallows hard as he takes the hand Adrian holds out and rises to his feet. 

Adrian’s skin is how he remembers, calloused but still smooth, and he doesn’t say anything when Deran holds on a few seconds too long. He does look a little shaken though, as he slides onto the newly stable stool and waits for the beer he knows Deran will offer. 

They sip their beers until Adrian breaks the silence. "You know, you owe me a window."

“What?”

“You said you’d fix my window and it still won’t close right.” A challenge glints in his eyes. “What are you doing Saturday morning?”

Thinking about that night makes Deran hate himself a little more, for the things he did, but especially the things he said. He was surprised that Adrian talked to him after that, but he talked to him then and he’s talking to him now. He can’t change the past, but he can make sure he doesn’t do it again.

Deran sighs. “I guess I’m fixing a window.”

Adrian puts down his half-full glass. “I’ll see you at 8:00.”

Deran gets the significance. After the waves but before work. A neutral time. A time that doesn’t mean anything. Except Adrian won’t look at him head-on, like there’s something in his eyes that he doesn’t want Deran to see.

It’s not the time Deran would have wanted, but it’s a chance – an opportunity – and he’s not going to blow it. He feels a smile breaking out, the kind of smile usually worn by twelve-year-old girls, and he downs the rest of his beer in one gulp. Anything to hide the dopey grin he knows is on his face.

 

* * *

 

"What's up with you, man?" Craig stares at his brother over the rim of his coffee cup. "You pulling a job without me?"

Deran looks up from organizing his tools. He has everything he needs, but he's double-checking just in case. There's too much riding on this opportunity to mess anything up. "When would I have the time?"

Craig gestures at the mess of carpentry gear. "So what's the deal?"

It would be easy to tell Craig the truth. He's on Deran's side and he's rooting for him to work things out with Adrian, but Deran can't bring himself to say anything. There's nothing to tell, if there was every anything at all. He's fixing a window he broke. Nothing more.

"Just repaying a debt," he says and slings the toolbag over his shoulder. 

Craig doesn't look like he believes him, but doesn't ask again. "Well, let me know if you need me." 

"Delivery's at 11:00. If I'm not back, can you fill in?"

"I'll be here." Craig's eyes are surprisingly clear, his movements controlled as he brings the mug to his lips. Deran feels strangely confident his brother will actually come through.

That confidence sticks on the drive to Adrian's. Maybe it's seeing Craig get his shit together, or maybe it's the promise of what's to come, but Deran feels good – free – like maybe happiness isn't a feeling he's endlessly chasing. Maybe it's something that's finally for him.

Adrian's hair is wet when he opens his front door, a few drops of water clinging to the cords of his throat. Deran does his best not to stare. Adrian smells good too, like soap and sun, and it takes Deran back to that month, that one shining month, the only month of his life that really counts. 

_Belize was a long time ago and it was simple there. That was the point._

Deran knows what he said that night, but he also knows the truth, and he thinks, given time, it can be simple again.

"Hey," he says, a little blinded by Adrian's smile as he opens the door and lets him in.

The interior is how he remembers, but different too – it might be the first time he's been inside Adrian's apartment during daylight. 

"You can get started at any time." Adrian leans against the wall, head cocked towards the broken window in the hall. It's a casual pose for a casual day, and Deran lets a little casual humor into his voice.

"You're not gonna help?"

Adrian smirks. "I'm playing 'Call of Duty.' You're finishing what you started."

The air goes still around them, Adrian's words hanging between them. "I didn't mean –"

"Yeah, you did." Deran says the words softly, but they don't mean any less. He has so much more to make up for than a broken window. 

Adrian still looks a little stricken and he shouldn't. Whatever mistakes he made, they're nothing compared to the red Deran carries in his ledger. Deran walks forward until there's no space between them. Adrian has a few inches on him, but that doesn't stop Deran from sliding a hand up Adrian's nape and tugging his forehead to his. 

"All that shit? It’s on me.” He curls his fingers in Adrian’s hair. “Don’t you forget it.”

Adrian nods, a slide of clammy skin over Deran’s brow, and it brings them even closer, so close their mouths could touch if either of them released a deep breath. Deran can feel Adrian’s heart beating fast, almost too fast, and it’s a heady feeling, inspiring that reaction in someone else. Deran’s chest rises and falls at a rapid clip. He hopes Adrian realizes he’s inspiring the same reaction in him.

Adrian takes a step back and brushes his hair from his forehead. “How about that window?”

Deran could punch him for breaking the spell, for giving so much and taking it away, but he unclenches his fists and sucks in a deep breath. He forces a smile when all he wants to do is wrap his hands around Adrian’s neck and squeeze.

_You’re in charge man. You made that clear._

He doesn’t know anything about relationships but he can learn. He took the first step by getting out from under Smurf, but he’ll need some help with the rest. So he lets Adrian have this even if it’s not what he wants. It can’t be all about him, not anymore. 

He makes that smile even brighter. “One window coming up.”

 

* * *

 

Deran fucks Mark Liston for three reasons.

He doesn't want to pay $273
The guy's in good shape
He needs something to think about besides almost kissing Adrian


It kind of blows up in his face.

Mark still wants the money and his thighs are sore and when he closes his eyes, Adrian is all he sees.

 

* * *

 

Deran doesn’t see much of Adrian for a while.

There’s Craig’s boat job to plan and Baz tweaking out about Cath and then the past is coming back for Smurf and she’s asking them to kill someone for her. He doesn’t, but it’s little wonder that he hits the surf a little too hard and scratches up his board. 

There are any number of places he could take the board, but he only considers one shop. He has a broken board and Adrian fixes them. There’s no second-guessing when he pulls up in front of Real Surf.

Deran follows the whine of the sander to the backroom and stops in the doorway, takes a minute to soak up the view. He could watch Adrian work all day and probably never get tired of it.

He knocks softly, then waits patiently for Adrian to acknowledge him. The sander clicks off and Adrian takes off the mask and then he’s smiling at him from across the room.

“What happened to your board?”

Deran scowls. “I was down at the pier this morning. The left break kicked my ass. Almost broke my board.”

Adrian tilts his head towards an empty table. “Put it up there. I’ll take a look.”

Deran likes this view even more, watching Adrian with his serious face, all business as he inspects the board. It’s a side of him that he’s never seen before, a side he wants to know better.

"What's the damage?"

Adrian takes the board down and stacks it against the wall. "I'll need a few days, but the board is fine."

Deran fumbles for his wallet and tries to offer payment, but Adrian turns him down. "Don't be stupid." The words come out harsher than intended but Adrian doesn't seem phased. In fact, he seems a little nervous.

"Goods in kind, man. Um. Drinks? Your bar? Tonight?"

It wouldn't be the first time Adrian's had a drink at The Drop, but he's never initiated before. It was Deran reciprocating for the keg or feeling guilty. When he thinks about it, there was no reason for Adrian to show up the day he was fixing stools. But there he'd been and Deran's thought of little else since. 

“Yeah, I mean that wasn’t an excuse to…” He wants to be clear that he came here to get his board fixed. Being near Adrian was only an added bonus.

"It'll be good to catch up." 

Deran could point out that they've spent weeks "catching up," but it wouldn't be the entire truth. They've been in each other's space and exchanged words, but even after that charged moment in Adrian's living room, he has no idea what's going on in the other man's life. He really wants to know.

"Yeah. Okay. I'll see you tonight."

"Yeah, see you around." Adrian looks relieved, his chest rising as he exhales a breath. It's another few seconds before Deran manages to walk out of the shop.

 

* * *

 

They have their drink. Deran tells Adrian about Mark Liston and waits for it to ruin what little progress they've made. 

It was stupid and meant nothing and if Deran hadn't been drunk and feeling sorry for himself when Mark stopped by, it never would have happened. But it did happen and Deran makes a point to tell Adrian, no matter how much it could come back to bite him in the ass. All Adrian knows of him is lies. If he wants to prove that he's changing, he has to show him. 

Adrian doesn't get angry. He laughs about Mark being an asshole and laughs harder when Deran mentions the bookkeeper and then talks about the classes he's taking at UCSD. He says he wants more than a washed up career and Deran realizes he does too. The bar was a way to punch out on his own, but that goal has changed. Sitting with Adrian, talking about a future – a real future, without Smurf and Baz hanging around his neck – he thinks it might be possible.

Last call rolls around and Adrian's still there. The bar is getting more foot traffic, but it's still primarily a surf spot, so he knows a lot of people. Craig wasn't joking about Adrian's celebrity. In Oceanside, he's like a rock star. Still, every now and then, his gaze strays to Deran. He could be busing glasses or pouring drinks, but he can feel those eyes locking in on him.

Closing time passes and Deran sends Heather home. He tries to at least sweep the floor and put up the chairs before locking up, but it's the last thing he plans on doing tonight, not with Adrian sticking around.

He’s nervous. His face is flushed and the room is too warm and he’s unsure of how to play this. 

_I just want us to be okay._

He managed to survive that rejection. He can survive this too.

Across the bar, Adrian watches him – waits for him – like he always did before, the only way Deran ever let him.

Slowly, so he doesn’t spook him, Deran cups Adrian’s stubbly cheek in his hand. It’s just a touch but he _feels_ all the things he wouldn’t let himself have before. 

Adrian makes a soft sound somewhere between a moan and a sigh, and his eyes slide closed.

Deran wants to kiss him, even more than he did the day he fixed the window, but he doesn’t take that final step. Adrian asked him here, put this in motion. He needs to be the one to move them forward.

It’s Deran’s turn to wait, but not for very long. Adrian finds Deran’s mouth and then they’re crashing together, right in the middle of the only place that Deran’s felt was his.

Adrian pulls back, his jaw locked like he’s waiting for a punch, and Deran hates himself a little more. He never was much good at cleaning up messes, but he’s serious about trying. If he made Adrian this way, he can also make him into something new.

He starts with a kiss, a gentle press of his mouth against Adrian’s. It’s almost sweet in its tenderness, and that’s what Deran wants Adrian to see – he might be an animal, but he wants to be tamed.

Slowly, he breaks away, cocks his head towards the office. “You coming?”

"Yeah," Adrian says. "I really am."

 

* * *

 

Deran takes his time. 

He learns the lines of Adrian’s body, touching him in all the ways he never would before. He lets Adrian touch him too, and doesn’t bite down to hide the groans. He lets Adrian hear how much he likes this – how much he likes Adrian doing these things to him. He isn’t afraid anymore, to let his feelings show. 

Their clothes are gone by the time they make it to the couch and Deran feels stretched thin, his skin tight as a drum. Adrian stills when Deran pulls him flush against his chest.

“I’m not – You’ll need to…”

“Shh,” Deran whispers into his neck. His hips move of their own accord, grinding softly against Adrian’s ass. He’s so hard it actually hurts. “I got you.”

He pulls away only to get the bottle of lube that he bought the week after he opened the bar. It came in handy with Mark, and he’s more than grateful considering what’s at stake tonight.

Adrian looks surprised, and he probably should be. They always did this at Adrian’s house, with Adrian’s supplies. Deran realizes, a little pitifully, that it’s the first time Adrian’s been inside anything he calls a home. 

“I thought you didn’t plan this.”

Deran opens the tube and slicks himself up good. “It never hurts to be prepared.”

Adrian starts to say something, but Deran cuts it off with a little push. Adrian falls forward, automatically rising to all fours. 

Taking what he wants is the only thing he knows and Adrian always let him. Deran’s eyes trace the pale curves of Adrian’s ass, the lean strength in his thighs – it would be so easy to lose himself in the first, sweet stroke.

But he wants to give Adrian more than angry sex in his back office. He traces a line down Adrian’s back, drawing circles around each bump of his spine. He wants to put back together what he broke.

Adrian turns his head, eyes almost black in the dim light. “What are you waiting for?”

Deran closes his eyes to keep from losing it entirely. It would be so easy to push inside, to hear Adrian’s hiss at the stretch, to feel him close around Deran’s cock like a vise. It’s so easy, and yet, he holds back. He sees black eyes and bruises on Adrian’s hip. He can’t be that person again. 

“I want things to be different. I don’t want – ”

Adrian is slim but he’s strong, and it takes little more than a shove to send Deran sprawling onto the couch. Adrian's fast too, and before Deran can react, he slides into his lap, the head of his dick brushing against Deran’s stomach. 

“I won’t break,” Adrian whispers, hips rocking slightly. Deran’s having trouble thinking straight. “I don’t want you breaking into my house anymore, but I want _you_.” He emphasizes with a thrust of his hips, Deran’s cock sliding into the crevice of his ass. He rises to his knees and hovers, his fingers wrapping around Deran’s cock to line him up. “Give me something I’ll remember tomorrow.”

It’s all the permission he needs and he thrusts up as Adrian slides down, his vision graying at the edges. It’s that good and he hasn’t even moved. 

Adrian moves first, rising on his knees and sinking down again, his jaw locked tight as he concentrates, his pupils blown wide. It might be the hottest thing Deran’s ever seen.

It’s also shameful, knowing that he’s fucked this man for two years and never once watched him come. He never knew how good it could feel to look into Adrian’s eyes, to thrust up his hips and see the pleasure wash over Adrian’s face. He didn’t know that letting someone see all the way inside him wasn’t scary at all, that holding Adrian while their breathing evened out and their heartbeats slowed down, might be the best feeling of all.

When they can finally move, Adrian’s quick to get cleaned up. Deran should probably follow suit, but he’s too blissed out to get off the couch. 

Still, he has the energy to catch Adrian’s wrist when he reaches for his pants. Adrian tenses and Deran loosens his grip, not enough to let him go, but to enough to make clear that it’s no threat. But if Adrian leaves, the night will be over, and Deran isn’t ready to let go. “You should stay.”

Adrian stills a moment, then looks pointedly at the couch. “There’s not exactly enough space for two.” 

Deran drops his wrist, ready to concede the fight. It would be a tight squeeze but if Adrian really wanted it, they could have made it work.

“I have a bed though. Lots of room.” He lets the offer hang in the air, holding his pants and unabashedly naked while he waits on Deran’s answer. 

As if Deran could say no, not with promises of a mattress underneath him and Adrian eagerly wrapped around him. 

He smiles, so wide it almost hurts his face, maybe the first real smile of his life. “Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

The sky is a milky gray when Deran wakes the next morning, an unfamiliar comforter pulled up to his waist. Adrian’s room, he realizes after a few seconds. He spent the night in Adrian’s bed.

For a moment he panics – what was he thinking, what if someone finds out? – but then he remembers: a black eye, cracked ribs, kissing Mark goodbye in full view of his staff and not giving a fuck.

_This is all yours, this is all you. You need to know that._

The panic slips away, fades into a dull throb of desire. This is who he is and he’s where he wants to be. He can stop caring what other people think of it. He rolls over, sliding between Adrian’s thighs and kissing him awake. 

It’s slower the second time, softer too. Deran likes it hard and fast, but there’s also something appealing about taking his time, exploring the planes of Adrian’s body without fear of being discovered. He comes for the first time in Adrian’s mouth and fucks him missionary style, and it’s new and different and he’s never felt so far from himself, and yet so sure.

It only feels good when Adrian rests his cheek on his chest, and he combs his fingers through Adrian’s sweaty hair. He feels anything but shame when Adrian follows him into the shower, only a burning need to sink to his knees and take Adrian’s cock in his mouth. 

They’re drinking coffee later that morning when Adrian brings it up, the topic they’ve been avoiding. 

“Does your family know?”

Deran carefully puts down his mug. No one knows but Craig and maybe J, but Adrian isn’t referring to them, and he doesn’t mean Pope or Baz either. When it comes to Adrian, there was only one person that really mattered. 

He can still see Smurf the night he opened The Drop, looking small and scared in the harsh light, acting like he was betraying _her_. He can still feel her digging in no matter how far he tries to run.

 _Isn’t that what you want? To feel like it’s what I want?_

Adrian called it sick but it was more than that. It was the only thing Deran knew of love, to take and take until there was nothing left. It started with the bar and it grew inside him, this need to have something of his own. Everything he had eventually became hers and Adrian…Adrian was the one thing he had that could only be his. He doesn’t regret the things he said to her. He only wishes it hadn’t taken so long.

“I told her,” he says. “The night I opened the bar, I let it all out.”

“Wow.” 

“Yeah.” Deran takes a sip of coffee, unsure of what else to say. Talking about Smurf outside his brothers is a risk he isn’t ready to take. 

“And she was okay with it?”

Adrian’s gaze is searching, his eyes wary. Deran thinks he gets it. After making it this far, he can’t imagine hiding again. “I don’t give a fuck what she thinks.” 

Maybe, some day, he’ll tell Adrian about pulling jobs and getting his brother shot and the time his mother asked him to kill for her. Maybe he’ll explain how Smurf could be everything and treat him like nothing at the same time. Maybe he’ll never say anything at all. 

Whatever he used to be, that version of Deran Cody is dead and gone.

 

* * *

 

They run the boat job a week later.

In theory, it goes well. 

Baz and J handle the Coast Guard and police and Deran stands at Craig’s side while he fleeces a bunch of rich idiots of their fancy jewels and watches. The amount of money is staggering and with his cut, Deran will one step closer to buying his way out. 

Craig did good. There were no shots fired, easy marks. He shouldn’t complain. 

But then, he can’t breathe. 

His balaclava is choking him, all the air trapped in layers of synthetic wool. The moment they’re off the boat, he pulls it off and sucks great gasps of air into his lungs. His heart is pounding. Sweat beads on his brow. He can’t seem to calm down.

There was a kid on board, somewhere between his age and J’s, cowering in a corner behind the bar. He crouched down when he saw Deran coming, put his elbows up to protect his face.

It was like a sucker punch to the gut. 

He’s seen that face, the night Adrian cut him out of his life, remembers how Adrian curled into himself, naked terror clear on his face. He’d been afraid – of Deran, of what Deran might do, of what Deran could make him do – and Deran hadn’t cared then, but he can’t avoid it now.

The person he was, as long as he keeps doing this, he’ll always be there. He can’t take another three months of seeing that look on someone’s face, let alone sixty. 

The next morning his brothers file into the bar to divide up the spoils and he tells them that he’s done.

“I’m your blood.” He gestures at their little circle. “I’ll keep your secrets, but I need more than this. I won’t tell you again.” 

It must be something in his voice, or the expression on his face, but only Baz protests his decision. “Give it time,” Deran hears him say later. “He’ll come crawling back when he runs out of money.”

The others might not agree, but they accept the choice he’s made. Craig claps him on the back and Pope looks strangely proud. Deran thinks he might be envious, for cutting the tie that keeps threatening to strangle the rest of them.

“We’re still brothers, right?” Craig looks like he might cry. He might be genuinely sad, or have smoked too much weed, but Deran gives him the benefit of the doubt.

“I’m proud of you. No one thought you’d pull off that job but you did. You need to know that.”

Craig turns a little red, but it might also be the weed. “It’s not going to be the same without you.”

“I’ll be around.” He gestures at the bar he owns. “Now you’ll always know where to find me.”

The bell dings and Adrian walks through the door, sun-kissed and smelling of salt and surf. Craig gives Deran a knowing look, but plays nice. He talks to Adrian about his latest competition and the waves at Black’s Beach and Deran leans back and takes it all in.

_May we all get what we want and never what we deserve._

He doesn’t want it to be true, but he’s never been very good at lying to himself. He’s a Cody and always has been but maybe, someday, want can be what he deserves.

He catches Adrian’s eye over Craig’s ridiculously tall shoulder. Maybe it already is.

 

* * *

 

It’s early morning. Deran spills the coffee because it’s dark out and he’s still learning his way around this house. It means waiting for a fresh pot, but he curses softly and makes it again. 

Almost ten minutes pass before the coffee is done and he has the thermoses ready. From outside Adrian honks softly, reminding Deran that they have waves to catch. 

They’re not going to Encuentro and they’re not going to Long Caye. Belize was a dream and Deran wants something real. He wants Smurf and Baz and fighting, every day, to keep to his word. No matter how hard they pull, he needs to push. It's the only way to truly be free. 

“You ready to do this?” Adrian asks. 

The sun is starting to rise and it lights up the gold in his hair and the freckles on his face. They’re just going to Oceanside, but Deran feels miles away, lost in sand and sun and the ocean stretching blue and endless before him. It feels like everything he wants, what he works to deserve.

“Yeah,” he says. “I really am.”

**Author's Note:**

> As the tag says, something of a fix-it fic. While I loved Adrian/Deran reconnecting in canon, I do think it was somewhat rushed. I would have liked a little build up or _some_ interaction before they essentially went on a date, and this is my attempt at crafting those early interactions. Also, as a cis woman that finds writing sex scenes to be incredibly embarrassing in any context, I apologize if anything is inappropriate or inaccurate. I did some research and I think (hope) I got it right. Further disclaimer: you do you in the bedroom, regardless of how positions are employed in this fic. Title and quote courtesy of Deerhunter. Enjoy.


End file.
